Communications
by mallelen
Summary: A story inspired by Secret Window
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1  
  
"I think you'll fit in just fine here," Laura's new-supervisor said with a distracted glance toward his computer. "If you can stand it," he said with a laugh as he returned his gaze to the blatantly plain figure of Laura Stevenson. She had shoulder length frumpy brown hair- obviously suffering from one perm too many and a frumpy outfit to match. He face squinched up into a nervous smile as she pulled at her shirt- afraid her mother would be right and her pannie line was showing. She lived in a small apartment with her disabled mother on N. Franklin Street. It wasn't far from the Danbury College of Veterinary medicine- where she now worked, but having no car it was a considerable walk- attesting to the bunching of her underwear.  
  
Paul Henderson motioned to an empty desk and computer in a corner of the stuff room.  
  
"That's where she used to sit," he said. Laura smiled appreciatively and took her seat. The desk was made of plastic disguised to look like wood and the only thing to look at was a message board covered in gray burlap covered with sheets of numbers and meaningless acronyms. She looked at the numbers apprehensibley and told herself she'd know what they meant soon enough. She looked back at Paul to see if he was going to give her further instructions but found he had been already swept away in a phone call about the failing pager system.  
  
"I'm supposed to get a new order today. Yes, I know it's been three days, but I didn't have the new pagers- so what good would a new number do ya?" He said adding a laugh to break the tension. Laura looked back to her blank computer screen. She could wait to learn the ropes. She then noticed her bulky purse still sat on her lap like a small child or a curled up cat. It weighed about as much. She had everything it in she could possibly need: her wallet, id, checkbook, her eyeliner, her entire collection of CDs and her CD player. She carried all of the things out of necessity. Not that she needed any of them, but she needed to remember her purse and her favorite CDs served very well as insurance that she'd remember. So far her gambit had paid off. She hadn't set it down or left it on a counter or a dressing room floor, it had remained at her hip testifying to the presence of her new found mental stability and dependability. She reached into the purse and felt without taking it out a picture of a man with dark hair and eyes- in his early thirties but looking as old as the sea. He was her boyfriend turned fugitive. He looked much older than he was because his line of work aged him- he was lawless. Anything that got him into trouble seemed to be in his line of work. He would come into town unexpectedly and leave without a word. She had gotten used to it. No more crying phone calls or desperate letters. She would great him with unbridled rage when he showed up and mull about for days in destitution after his departure. She always had his picture with her wherever she was. At home she'd usually set it up by the window as she was washing dishes or by the computer when she was up late. She looked behind her and saw her co-workers desks were barren in terms of anything personal. There was no clue to their lives outside of the small plaster colored room or that they had anything that interested them besides the ceaseless clicty-clack of the key board and bleep of the phone. She accepted the loss of her picture and lowered her heavy purse tot he ground. She folded hands in her lap and tried not to be nervous. Just then Paul stirred in his chair and spun around.  
  
"I've got to run out but that's Jill in the back," he said pointing to woman long gray hair and a native American pendant around her neck " and that's Cynthia and Tammy who get the phones along with you," he said as he stood up and made toward the door. Cynthia and Tammy made slight indications at the mention of their name that they acknowledged my presence and were glad of it.  
  
"Tell her about all the people who ever sat in that chair," he added. Laura smiled uneasily. Both girls sat tight lipped "They all went crazy," he answered himself " and I mean literally- crazy," he added and walked out the door.  
  
"Have a good day." 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter 2  
  
Laura quickly understood why they hired her so fast. For the next week and a half only Jill and herself showed up. Cynthia got a flat that took two days to fix and Tammy had trouble with her kid's babysitter. Paul was having some sort of out patient surgery the very next day and Laura didn't see him for again a solid two weeks. Being left to fend off the vicious ringing phones on her own she either learned the ropes or hung herself with them. She was a switchboard operator. Whenever she thought of switchboard operators she had visions of Auntie Mame working with a myriad of cords that gradually became entangled around her like a noose. These days switchboard operators didn't have cords to be choked with- only numbers. Laura's job was to direct all of the calls as they came into the college. Some callers could simply be transferred to the front desk: 1-3138. Those were the easiest besides the ones that simply had meant to call the main campus. The rest were patients or really owners of patients and these needed to be directed to the respective clinician. Each vet had their own extension number. But it wasn't so simple as to merely transfer a client asking to speak with Dr. Rainbow to Dr. rainbow's extension: 1-5476. The college had an electronic pager system that utilized the computers. You would enter the doctor's name, the clients name and number and the reason they were calling and then click send. A little count down would begin giving the doctors two minutes to call in. The whole time the client is waiting on hold- getting agitated. If the doctor actually called in then you'd have to find out if they wanted to take the call and if they did you'd transfer the line. Most of the time the count down would expire and then you would have to explain to the client (often several times) that the doctor was busy (you weren't sure doing what) and that they'd call them back (but you weren't sure when) and the patient would grumble and hang up.  
  
Laura was always amazed when the doctors actually called in and she was able to transfer the client to their line. Its rarity made it into a feeling of success like reuniting long lost lovers. She always wondered if the client realized how lucky they were, that there had been ten before them that had been trying for three days but had always been transferred to the doctors phone mail in lieu of anything more hopeful.  
  
Laura had a knack for remembering numbers. She had memorized her mother's credit card numbers- expiration date and all. She had memorized them just from the few times she had had to type them into the computer to buy something off the Internet. She had a random assortment of phone numbers in her head at all times, usually whatever she had had to dial more than once or had dialed most recently: Lucky cab service, El Mariachi's Mexican restaurant, the drug store and her ex-boyfriends phone numbers-all of them. So it surprised her when she found that all the numbers at work really rattled her. She would have to double-check two or three times that the number she was about to transfer a client to was what was written on the paper and she hadn't reversed it. In all fairness she had never had a time limit when memorizing numbers. She had committed them to memory in a slow paced, quiet atmosphere. But once you pushed the transfer button you had about five seconds to punch in 1 followed by the five digit extension or the line would begin to beep angrily at you and the call would be lost to dark void of a dial tone.  
  
In between calls there would be lulls of boredom. Laura would stare at her screen and wait. It was like the calm before the storm. When the calls came they would be in hordes. But when they didn't she would waste away listening to Tammy complain about her bills and how her boyfriend wouldn't let her claim their four kids as dependents, and Cynthia would interject with meaningless comments. By the second week Laura started to wonder about the operators before her-perhaps there was a reason they went crazy. Jill was no solace. She would laugh at anything- no- everything and her laugh was like a girlish giggle that had grown up into a womanly cackle. Interspliced in all this was the occasional bleeping of the phone.  
  
"College of veterinary medicine," Laura would answer.  
  
"Hi, um...I'm not sure who I need to talk to-"  
  
"Can I get your name?"  
  
"Kelly Martin."  
  
"What doctor are you trying to reach?"  
  
"Um...I don't know." Then it would be a mad search of trying to sift through the client's memory for clues that could then be given to the medical records dept. to try and piece together the clients puzzle. In a college with over two hundred clinicians and residents they would give you physical descriptions of the doctor and expect you to be able to page them for their sick dog or cat. Then in the middle of this the phone would bleep again on a different line.  
  
"College of veterinary medicine"  
  
"Hi, I need Dr. Lloyd." Finally someone who knows who they want.  
  
"Alright, may I get your name and number?" This question was always the telltale question. You would immediately know what mood the person was in and to what caliber the mood was capable of reaching.  
  
"But I want to talk to them-,"  
  
"I know, ma'mm, but I need-,"  
  
"Is Dr. Lloyd there?"  
  
"Ma'mm, I need to get your name and number so I can page them for you," Laura would manage to get in. They would then consent unwillingly.  
  
"And your message please?" This question would really piss them off.  
  
"MESSAGE? I just want to talk to them- tell them that!" It always amazed Laura that people could be so rude to people simply trying to help them. They just couldn't possibly accept that she had to do things by protocol or the vets would march down to the communications office and yell at her for being paged out of surgery for a personal call. (bleep) "College of veterinary medicine." Laura said with a tone of self-assurance. "Hi," the voice on the other end said with a quiver "I need a doctor- I think Binky is hurt...,"  
  
This was the other aspect that made her jumpy on the phone- emergency calls. The people would be frantic, sometimes crying and she would need to direct them to right place quickly- again a time limit. It was when the doctors didn't call in when she had a bleeding dog on the phone that she was really tense. She was helpless. The dog could be dying on the other end and all she could do was re-send the page and hope that the doctor would call. "Dr. Harris is on emergency receiving today, Ma'mm, please hold and I'll page him for you."  
  
"Please... so much blood."  
  
"Please hold," Laura said with wild eyes. In her mind she could see the woman by the phone holding her dog in her arms in a pool of blood. They looked serene, almost like that statue of Mary holding Christ.  
  
(bleep) Maybe it's Harris. In her mental image she saw the pious woman look up hopefully from her fallen Lord.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"This is Dr. Lloyd." It wasn't the doctor she'd been waiting for. He was returning another client's call. "Get a hold of yourself," she thought.  
  
"Oh, okay...I'll transfer you." Then back to waiting. The emergency call was reduced into a flashing light on the faceplate of Laura's phone. (bleep)  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"This is Dr. Harris- you paged me with an emergency?" It's him.  
  
"Yes sir, I'll transfer the call to you." Laura said hanging up. The trick with transferring a call is you have about a second and a half to glance at the small LCD screen on the phone to get the location of the doctor. You need that number in order to transfer the call to them as they could be anywhere in the college. If you miss it- it's gone.  
  
In her excitement Laura had missed it. She had remembered just a second too late as the numbers disappeared from the LCD screen. That was that. A sick feeling in her stomach worked its way through her entire body. She picked up the line with the client.  
  
"Ma'mm- I um," She stopped as sounds of crying drifted over the receiver "Ma'mm," Laura tried again but all she heard was a click. 


End file.
